Sherlock and the Four Legged Foe
by mattsloved1
Summary: John agreed to take care of Molly's cat while she was away on holiday. Sherlock decides to join him during his last visit. It might have been best if he hadn't.


Many thanks to MapleleafCameo and Johnsarmylady for going over this for me.

I don't own them.

This is for Lucy36. :-)

* * *

John entered Molly's flat, stepping to the side so Sherlock could walk past before he closed the door. He dropped the spare key she had given him on the counter top and headed for the living room. There he found Sherlock shaking his head at the knickknacks Molly loved to collect. Smiling, John began to look around for Toby.

Two weeks earlier, while Sherlock shut out the world and focused on a fresh cadaver, Molly had brought John a coffee and asked if he would mind checking on her cat. Her boyfriend, Herbert, had invited her to a weeklong holiday and her friend Nancy, Toby's usual watcher, wasn't available. This left Molly in a bit of a bind. He had told her it wouldn't be a problem and agreed to stop by every other day. Molly hugged him in thanks and given him her spare key before leaving the room.

Both of his previous visits had been easy. He had spent a few minutes giving Toby attention, assuring him his mistress wouldn't be gone long, before making sure his food and water were full and cleaning out the litter box. Nothing he couldn't handle easily on his way home from work. Today was his last visit and Sherlock had decided to tag along since they had just finished filling out paperwork for Lestrade. A quick look and John couldn't find Toby in any of his normal spots.

Deciding he would check and see if the cat might be hiding amongst the pans, Molly said he did that sometimes, John turned to Sherlock. "Do me a favor and see if he's under the bed, would you?"

Sherlock frowned but left without saying a word. Shrugging, John went back to the kitchen and bent down for a quick look. Everything was in place and he was straightening up when he heard a loud cry, then a curse more likely to leave his mouth than Sherlock's. Hurrying into the bedroom, John found both a hissing Toby on Molly's rocking chair and Sherlock, cradling his left hand in his right while he gave the cat a look of contempt.

"What happened?"

Sherlock kept his eyes trained on his four-legged foe. "That animal was hiding under the bed. He refused to come out when I called so I reached under for him. By the time I got him out, he'd used his claws against me. I'm certain I'll have scars."

Rolling his eyes, John walked over and looked at the damage. Toby had definitely made Sherlock pay for being disturbed. Nothing to worry about really but the scratches would need to be cleaned.

"Will I be all right?"

"You'll be fine. I'm actually surprised he didn't come out for you. He's a sweet little pussy cat."

Sherlock's jaw dropped. "Sweet? He's a crazed psycho-cat! I have open wounds!"

"You have a few scratches." Seeing his friend's mouth open, John rushed to end the oncoming rant before it began. "Why don't you go out into the kitchen and I'll get him settled? Won't take more than a minute or two."

Sending John an injured look, Sherlock cradled his hand once more and swept from the room. After he was gone, John sat on a bottom corner of the bed and held his hand out for Toby to sniff. A few moments later the cat decided John was still a friend and started to purr while pushing his head into the fingers petting him. Once Toby curled up for a nap, tired from his ordeal, John left the room.

He found Sherlock patting his hands dry when he entered the kitchen. John filled Toby's water and food bowls and went into the bathroom to take care of the litter box. Sherlock leaned against the doorframe, still protecting his hand, as John washed his.

"When we get home we should put disinfectant over your scratches to make sure they don't become infected."

John looked in on Toby one last time and then led the way out of the flat, locking the door behind him. As they took the lift down to the ground floor, John couldn't help but tease.

"Would you feel better if I put some of the plasters I use for the brave kids on your battle wounds?"

Sherlock was not amused. As the lift doors opened, he almost bolted, his coat fluttering dramatically as he walked.

"Want me to kiss it better?" John called out.

"Shut up!"

Laughing, John followed.

* * *

This is late, I know. But where I am it's still Wednesday so I've made my Wednesday deadline. ;-)


End file.
